I had so much to say the other night, although after a few glasses of wine it is all now forgotten. My memory is shockingly bad of late. I forget things almost instantaneously. I think it has been getting gradually worse over time, so gradually that I don't notice.
It might also be due to the confinement. It doesn't really matter what day it is anymore. I wake up, look for work, nap, look at social media, might watch some tv, look for more work, eat, sleep. That is pretty much all there is to my routine of late.
Last night I picked up my copy of Lord Tennyson's lyrical poems. It has been in my bookcase for years. It's a lovely small, blue leather bound book, embossed in gold with a flute playing classical boy on the front. Inside it is inscribed to Toodie, with love from Nancy, 25th July 1940. And next to that the "£2.50" price written in pencil, which is when I purchased it from a secondhand bookshop in Harrogate. It would have been around 1989, before I went to university. I remember loving the smell of that bookshop, a smell that I could last night conjure from the pages of the poetry book.
It was quite nice to spend a decent amount of time last night reading. I have not been able to focus for some time. I have quite a number of uncompleted Netflix films on the go. Everybody has been watching Tiger King, so I did watch that all the way through. I enjoy documentaries more than fiction of late. And biographies, although Michelle Obama and David Cameron both remain unfinished.
I get my fix from politics during the day. Either by the Guardian live updates on Coronavirus, or by Twitter. After last year's election disaster I was unable to go to Twitter for a long time. And I stopped listening to Radio 4 Today. I retreated into a parallel world where reality didn't need to exist. But now I have returned to those things, and it is right to understand where we are in the world right now. But I still feel myself seething inside when I read or hear what some people say.
In other news the cheese plant has gained a second new leaf growth. The first one looks fairly large. I'd like to get more plants into my flat. I planted a mango seed the other day in the pot on my balcony. I don't know if it will grow but I'm watering it every day. And I have an avocado pip suspended in water on my windowsill. Let's see what happens next.
I'll leave the final words to Lord Tennyson.
It might also be due to the confinement. It doesn't really matter what day it is anymore. I wake up, look for work, nap, look at social media, might watch some tv, look for more work, eat, sleep. That is pretty much all there is to my routine of late.
Last night I picked up my copy of Lord Tennyson's lyrical poems. It has been in my bookcase for years. It's a lovely small, blue leather bound book, embossed in gold with a flute playing classical boy on the front. Inside it is inscribed to Toodie, with love from Nancy, 25th July 1940. And next to that the "£2.50" price written in pencil, which is when I purchased it from a secondhand bookshop in Harrogate. It would have been around 1989, before I went to university. I remember loving the smell of that bookshop, a smell that I could last night conjure from the pages of the poetry book.
It was quite nice to spend a decent amount of time last night reading. I have not been able to focus for some time. I have quite a number of uncompleted Netflix films on the go. Everybody has been watching Tiger King, so I did watch that all the way through. I enjoy documentaries more than fiction of late. And biographies, although Michelle Obama and David Cameron both remain unfinished.
I get my fix from politics during the day. Either by the Guardian live updates on Coronavirus, or by Twitter. After last year's election disaster I was unable to go to Twitter for a long time. And I stopped listening to Radio 4 Today. I retreated into a parallel world where reality didn't need to exist. But now I have returned to those things, and it is right to understand where we are in the world right now. But I still feel myself seething inside when I read or hear what some people say.
In other news the cheese plant has gained a second new leaf growth. The first one looks fairly large. I'd like to get more plants into my flat. I planted a mango seed the other day in the pot on my balcony. I don't know if it will grow but I'm watering it every day. And I have an avocado pip suspended in water on my windowsill. Let's see what happens next.
I'll leave the final words to Lord Tennyson.
I envy not the beast that takes
His licence in the field of time,
Unfetter'd by the sense of crime,
To whom a conscience never wakes;
Nor, what may count itself as blest,
The heart that never plighted troth
But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;
Nor any want-begotten rest.
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
(In Memoriam A. H. H.)
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